


A safe place

by Shermantheworman



Series: Brooklyn Nine Nine more like,, Autism Nine Nine,,, [1]
Category: Brooklyn Nine Nine
Genre: Autistic Raymond Holt, Autistic Rosa Diaz, Gen, I don’t know if it’s clear but they’re all autistic, Neurodiversity, Stimming, The entire Nine Nine, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 17:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12822375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shermantheworman/pseuds/Shermantheworman
Summary: Captain Holt overcomes his own internalized ableism about stimming to help Rosa overcome hers





	A safe place

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: Trichotillomania, injuries, and I think that’s it

“Detective Diaz, I would like to see you in my office.”

 

Many descriptors come to mind about Rosa Diaz; Mysterious, secretive, short tempered, closed off, etcetera. One week, in particular, these descriptors stood very strong. 

Monday and Tuesday carried out the same way, with Rosa coming into work, head down, careful not to look at anyone, and quickly sitting in her seat. Her hair looked thinner in some areas; She’d been pulling it out. 

She spent her entire day glued to her seat and to her work, not getting up once, and so quiet the rest of the Nine Nine could be observed subtly checking on her to make sure she was still breathing.

 

Wednesday, Rosa came into work the same way as Monday and Tuesday, but that day Jake asked for backup out on a case. 

Rosa is a natural leader, usually, but on Wednesday she just followed directions, didn’t say a word, and just did what she had to do. Any noise, even the slightest noise, would cause her to flinch. Her movement was stiff as if every individual muscle moving was a very precise plan. Nonetheless, she got the job done and presumed no one suspected anything was wrong.

 

Thursday, Rosa came into work the same way as the past few days, but her old behavior was seeping through, which gave the others hope. She said a few words on Thursday, got up from her seat from time to time, and wasn’t so completely buried in her desk. The beeping of the microwave which Charles had loaded his lunch into was enough for Rosa to get out of her seat to look for the nearest weapon, which she proceeded to use to mercilessly beat the microwave, destroying it and Charles’s lunch. For Rosa Diaz, this was normal. 

 

Friday, everyone expected Rosa to come into work good as new. Instead she came into work head down, hands jammed into her pockets, pulling them out only to pull out her chair. Her hands were bandaged, but she was careful to hide them so no one saw. However, she seemed to have forgotten she’s not only surrounded by great detectives, but fellow autistic people who don’t miss a beat. 

 

“Detective Diaz” Holt spoke. “I would like to see you in my office.”

She sat there for a moment, as if to process what he’d just said and the upcoming transition from sitting to standing to sitting again, then finally got up and walked to Holt’s office. She sat down quietly, arms crossed, staring down at her knees.

After a moment of silence, both unsure of who was going to start talking, Holt spoke.

“Detective Diaz, it has been brought to my attention that you are injured.”

“Who told you that?” she said, almost shouting, keeping her hands hidden.

“Detective Peralta and Detective Santiago told me you injured your hands” Holt replied.

“Those snitches” Rosa grumbled. “Look, I’m fine. It’s a small injury, I...I’m fine.”

“Well, if you insist you are fine, you can get back to work” Holt said.

“Thanks” Rosa said. She got up to leave.

“Wait” Holt stopped her. Rosa turned around.

“There is something else I wanted to say.”

“As you know, I have a rule against mixing personal life with work life, but when personal life begins to affect work life, I feel it is my job to say something” Holt said. “Everyone has been concerned about you, Diaz.” 

A few moments of silence went by. Rosa stood as if she was putting together a puzzle in her mind, a puzzle of putting each individual word into its own slot to form a sentence. Rosa wasn’t the best at puzzles, and that frustrated her. 

“There’s a leaky pipe in my apartment” Rosa said, finally, as if she was trying to suck every word back inside as she said them. 

“The nearest and cheapest plumber is on vacation...” she continued. “So I have to deal with it until he’s back.”

“I...I couldn’t deal with it... I-It’s stupid-“

“It sounds like a real sensory overload” Holt replied, cutting off Rosa.

“Yeah” she said quietly, part uncomfortable and part relieved. “It is.”

“I know what that feels like” Holt said.

 

“I guess I’ve been pretty on edge this week because of it...” Rosa said. “Everything feels ten times heavier than usual.”

“Do you not have any way to regulate or block out the sensory input?” Holt asked.

“Why do you ask that?” Rosa questioned, looking down at her feet, as if to keep watch on them to make sure they didn’t shuffle.

“Well, something to block out the input is very useful, but you do not seem to have any tools” Holt replied. “I have never seen you self stimulate.”

That response seemed to take Rosa off guard, as she didn’t say anything for following moments after. Finally, she took a deep breath. 

“I...do” she said. “I just...don’t...like doing it around other people.”

“And why is that?” Holt said.

“I’m....I guess...I guess I’m scared” she said, looking down, and up, and at anything but Captain Holt’s eyes.

“I don’t want to draw attention to myself” she said, the sentence much easier than she thought it’d be. “I don’t want...I don’t wanna be judged.”

I don’t wanna be judged. Holt knew those words very well. He’d said and thought them himself in his own words, and took the precautionary measures to prevent said worry from happening. Now that he thought about it, he rarely used the tools he had either. He didn’t allow himself to stim. How could he give advice when instead of allowing to rock, or flap, or hum, or spin around in his chair, he allows things to pile up until he has to go to the bathroom or the evidence room or anywhere quiet and empty to unpack? I am a hypocrite, he thought. This ends now.

 

“Detective Diaz” he spoke, suddenly aware of how long he’d been sitting there thinking without saying a word, the sentence loud and sounding as if he’d forgotten how words work. “If anyone judges you for doing what you have to do to get through the day... they will hear from me. But this is not a place you have to worry about such a thing.”

This is not a place you have to worry about such a thing he said back to himself, but just in his head. 

Rosa turned around and looked out the window; Holt looked too. They sat like that for a few minutes, just quietly studying. Amy rocked back and forth in her chair now and then. Jake managed to perform every stim one could think of off the top of their head over the course of those few minutes. Gina spun around in her chair while scrolling on her phone, flicking her fingers every now and then if they cramped up from all the typing and scrolling. Terry tapped his feet and Charles bounced in his chair (it wasn’t a bouncy chair, but he made it one.)

“Th-Thank you, Captain” Rosa said finally, turning back around. 

“You are very welcome” Holt responded with a smile, a flat one, but a genuine one. 

Rosa left Captain Holt’s office, and he followed behind.

“Detective Peralta” he said. “I would like to see you in my office.”

As he and Jake walked back to his office, he allowed his hands to subtly flap at his sides. Subtle enough as to not draw attention, but noticeable enough for someone who needed to see it, could. That someone did, and she sat down, and put headphones on and a few minutes later, allowed her feet to tap and shuffle under her desk and her body to rock ever so slightly. It was simple, but it felt like a ton of bricks finally lifted after years of carrying them. For the both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fan fiction ever, unless if you count writing Junie B Jones fan fiction in 1st grade LOL. Writing fan fiction, so far, has helped inspired me for my regular writing so I’m going to continue doing this. Also there’s a huge lack of autistic Brooklyn Nine Nine stuff, and I am going to fix that right now. 
> 
> I am autistic myself, so a large portion of this was inspired by my own autism. 
> 
> Also sorry if the title is kinda corny I just couldn’t think of anything else :P
> 
> I don’t know what else to say here, I’m bad at this kind of thing so uhh I hope you enjoyed?? And if you didn’t that’s too bad I guess. Bye and thank you for reading :^)


End file.
